


Beneath Fen'harel's Gaze

by ObsidianMichi



Series: Dirty Dalish Celebrations [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianMichi/pseuds/ObsidianMichi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a Dalish celebration, a rather drunk Eirwen Lavellan drags a drunken Solas out to Fen'harel's statue to relive some adolescent memories. Things get a little dirty. Very dirty. (Quasi sequel to "One of Us")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath Fen'harel's Gaze

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything in this fic. Not even my Lavellan. I just put words in a row. This work is a quasi sequel to my fic "One of Us" and was prompted by Ottabox. So blame her.

Eirwen pulled Solas through the woods. Warm fingers tangled together, her thumb rubbing along the gentle curve of his hand. A bottle hung in her free hand. Occasionally, she lifted it to take another drink. Behind them, the laugher and songs of Clan Savrael’s celebration continued. She could hear the music echoing through the trees, the orange glow of the bonfire casting long shadows across trunk and bush as they headed toward the outskirts of camp.

Behind her, Solas laughed. His voice taking on the soft, slight slurring it had at Halamshiral. Clearly, he’d had a lot to drink. “While I find your intent to steal me away quite fascinating, vhenan,” he said. “I must wonder where we are going.”

One of his fingers slid between hers and began teasing her palm, rotating in tight concentric circles across the surface of her skin.

A smile tugged at her lips. She cried out in a sing song, “You’ll see!”

Solas grew bold when he drank, warm, confident, and sure. Brash. Gallant. Yes, gallant. The word she’d learned after borrowing Cassandra’s copy of _Swords and Shields_. The word to describe knights and courtiers, legendary heroes who swept maidens off their feet. Not a word she’d ever thought to use to describe her stiff, shy, and ever polite apostate. A man who battened down his emotions tightly, who skated a line between uninhibited passion and total repression. The man who swung between both like a pendulum, pace sped up by the merest puff of suspected intimacy. Sometimes, on long dark nights outside of Skyhold, he kissed her like she was the only woman he’d ever wanted. Then, the morning after, it seemed he couldn’t be bothered to glance in her direction.

_Unless I fall down, scrape my knee, get cut or singed. Then, he’s very attentive._

She put the bottle to her lips. Took a swig. The drink burned hot on her lips, tingling down her throat and fizzed in her stomach. She felt too hot, too loose. Too light. Giggly.

“You are laughing, vhenan,” he said. “I can hear you.”

With a tug, Eirwen pulled him out of the forest and into a small clearing. Overhead, the full moon burned bright. Small tiny laughs escaped her lips. She felt the tightening of his hand, drawing her back. She twirled beneath his arm. A glance into his eyes. Saw the warm smile playing on his mouth. He yanked her against him, arms wrapping about her body.

They clinked their bottles together.

One hand slid down her hip. His breath warmed her cheek, the faint spicy scent of Dalish summer wine. His lips brushed against her skin, sliding down her temple. Her stomach fluttered.

She moved against him, arcing her spine against the curve of his chest. “Solas.” Pressing into his hips, she rolled low and tilted her head back. Biting her lip, another giggle escaped her. “I have a secret,” she whispered. “Something I need to tell you.”

On her skin, his lips pull into a smile. He planted a kiss on her temple. “Am I to be your confessor?” he asked. A hand slid up her stomach, flicking underneath the hem of her shirt. Before it rose and he pulled her scarf free. His mouth dropped, skimming up the line of her ear. “Shall I be the source in which you confide your sins?”

Eirwen watched her scarf flutter to the ground. “Not if you don’t want them. My sins, I mean.” She giggled. “You do want them?”

“You are drunk,” he said. His breath tickled her ear. “Even so,” his hand moved to the satin sash around her waist, “I will take whatever you wish to give.” With a flick of his wrist, he undid the knot. It slipped free, unwrapping in loose, heavy folds. “Within reason.”

“What is reason?” she whispered. “When I’ve been _bad_.”

He chuckled. “I am sure Mother Giselle would be more than happy to oblige.” Then, his voice dipped into a low rumble. His hand moved to her belt. “Were she here.”

“It’s not a recent secret, Solas. It’s a stupid secret,” she murmured. Her free hand slipped behind her back, drifting down to trace a stiffening bulge in his pants. “A dirty, silly secret.” She leaned back. “You will laugh at me.”

“Yet,” he replied. “Vhenan.” The buckle of her belt popped loose. “You must confess.”

Taking another swig of her wine, she slid down him. Warm. Her cheeks burned. “Mmm.” She swallowed, tongue pressing to the roof of her mouth. “Look up.”

“Ah,” his voice was dry. “Fen’harel’s statue.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s always turned away from camp. So, the Dread Wolf won’t see. The some of the girls and I, my friends, well they were sort of my friends, we would, um,” she swallowed again, “we would sneak out here when… um…” her skin flamed, hotter from her burning core. “On celebrations when we… we wanted to whack one off.”

“Whack one off,” Solas repeated.

“Varric’s term for…” she swallowed a third time, shifting against him. She bit her lip. “Masturbation.”

“Ah.” His hand paused on her waist, resting on her abdomen. His forefinger slipped beneath the hem of her pants.

Quickly, Eirwen took another gulp of wine. “We’d challenge each other to cry out ‘may the Dread Wolf take me’ at the top of her lungs,” she giggled. “Or just ‘Fen’harel’ when we… um… climaxed.”

“Indeed, vhenan?” His voice was warm in her ear. “Did you?”

“The other girls always finished first.” Her fingers slid about the back of his head. “And someone always caught us.”

“Hmm,” he murmured. Slowly, he pulled away. “What an interesting activity, these youthful revelries of yours. Did your wolf ever appear?”

She watched him set his drink upon the grass. “No.” She laughed. “It was just us. Normal wolves sometimes. And the boys who snuck close to watch.” Tilting her head, Eirwen chewed her lower lip. “They almost count.”

“Almost,” Solas agreed.

He glanced up at her, his stormy gray-blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. An odd, thoughtful smile tucked in the corners of his mouth. Hand rising back to his mouth, he run his thumb along his lower lip. There was a hungriness in the way he studied her. An almost malicious sense of humor, a wickedness in how his eyes dragged across her body. Eirwen grew warm, hot, beneath his gaze. Want… want was too simple a word.

It left her mouth dry. “Solas?”

He stepped forward, cupping her chin with one hand. Lifting her up, he pressed a kiss to her lips. One arm went about her waist and he pulled her tight against him. She tilted onto her toes. Fire seared across her tongue. Her heart thudded. The bottle fell from her hand and clattered to the grass. Both arms flew around his neck, lips parting in a breathless gasp. His tongue speared into her mouth, sweeping across in a wet pulse.

She moaned.

He took advantage to deepen the kiss. His fingers moving into her hair, gripping the back of her head. He bent her back, but not with the eager surprise of their first kiss or the resigned acceptance of the second. Both shared a desperateness. This kiss was different. The kiss of a man who knew his lover, knew what she liked, knew her secret places. A man who was in no hurry, who had all the time in the world. Who knew it and wanted her to know it too.

Her tongue slipped to search along the outside of his lower lip. She felt him shudder. Felt him grin.

He pushed her back against the statue.

Rough stone scraped fabric. She clung to him, drawing him deeper, pressed into his embrace. One hand slid down his back. _So tall,_ she thought. _So broad._ Fingertips trailed down his neck, exploring triangular crevices of his shoulders through his shirt. Slowly, she reached for the hem and began to tug.

His rumbling laugh vibrated on her skin. “In such a hurry, ma lath?”

“Well, vhenan, it’s like Skyhold.” Eirwen slid her hands around his waist, dipping into his pants. He was warm, hot, and, as she followed the trail of hair leading down his belly, a little sticky. Her voice dropped lower. “You never know who’ll come and see.”

Cupping her face with his hands, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Is that correct?”

She giggled, tongue flicking between her lips. Her eyes locked on his gray-blue irises. She raised her index finger and licked up the knuckle until she slipped it between her teeth, salty tang of his fluids lingered in her mouth as she swallowed. “Mmm.” She nodded.

Eirwen thought she heard his breathing quicken. Knew she saw his grin widen, even as his face was shadowed by the bonfire’s distant light. “Then,” he took her hands and placed them on his waist, “we must be quick.”

Slowly, she undid his belt buckle. Heard it hit the grass. Her hands slid under his shirt and he helped her pull it off. Fingers running down his neck, his chest. Fingertips tingling as she slid down the curve of his waist, counting the ridges of his ribcage before moving inward to roll across his stomach and the gentle cut of his muscles. She played with his bellybutton, leaning forward to drag her tongue up his chest to the soft knoll of his throat.

He caught her, lifted her chin, kissed her again. His palms burned against her skin. His impenetrable eyes dark in the moonlight. His thumbs swept her cheekbones, turned her head. Lips running up the inner line of her ear. Tongue darting out to brush her earlobe.

Another moan escaped her. She shivered. Felt the warmth between her legs.

“Creators,” Eirwen breathed.

“You are breaking the rules, da’len,” Solas murmured. He hissed a soft _tsk, tsk._ “Once more and you may need to be punished.”

“I apologize, _hahren,_ ” she replied. “What should I say?”

His hands dropped, moving to her jacket. It slid from her shoulders and hit the ground. Slowly, he undid the buckles of her shirt. One strand, then another, leaning forward as he did. One thumb brushed over her left breast, her nipple swelling and puckering inside her bra. “You know as well as I, _da’len,_ ” he said. “There is only one god here.”

“Oh.” She leaned back, pressed to the statue. “Yes.” Her lips flirted with his, taunting his smile with uneven breaths. _The dare. The Dread Wolf._ Her hands wandered down his chest, sliding toward the hem of his pants. Fingers dove inside to grip him firmly. Slowly, running her hand up and down the length of his cock, massaging him with tense, taught fingers. “I believe,” she murmured, “I do remember.”

A soft groan rumbled on her neck.

“Fen’harel,” she whispered.

He kissed below her ear, parting her shirt with his hands. Fabric hung loose at her sides, rippling over her skin, tickling her waist. Cold air shivered across the surface of her body, fine hair standing on end. His fingers ran across her chest, teasing the line of her collarbone. She felt the fabric sliding off her shoulders, slipping down her arms. His mouth moved down the line of her throat, tracing the curve of her jugular with his teeth.

Her fingers quickened, rotating up and down, faster and faster.

One hand landed on the statue behind her. His teeth slid down the base of her neck, to her shoulder, wrapping above her collarbone. His free fingers skimmed underneath the fabric of her shirt, teasing warm skin to her bra. His palm moved over her breast. His teeth closed on her shoulder, pelvis bucking when he squeezed her nipple.

A hot searing pain seized her, followed by a warm rush of pleasure. She gasped. “Solas,” Eirwen moaned. She kept her hand moving, head pressed against the curve of the wolf’s stomach. Fingers dipping lower, she slowly rubbed his balls. “Fen’harel!”

He growled, biting harder.

She groaned. Teeth clamping down on her lower lip. Her breathing quickened.

His fingers moved in tightly semi-circles over her bra, massaging her nipple gently, quickly.

She answered him, sliding behind his balls to toy with the sensitive skin. Her hand raced up his neck, gripping the back of his head. Her hips began to rotate against him, rolling against the fabric of his pants.

Solas moaned.

“Solas.” She went up and down, up and down. “If I cry out to the Wolf…” She dragged her fingers up his length again, thumb toying with the flap over his cock. “Who will you call to?”

He chuckled. He kissed her neck, her earlobe, her cheek, until his lips moved against her ear. “Is it not obvious, vhenan?” He pinched her nipple. “I call for you.” Another spasm of pleasure shot through her. “Eirwen.” Her name slipped from his lips as a purr, soft like a prayer. A rumble that filled her and shook her, the pleasure of his voice left her wet. “Eirwen,” he repeated. “Eirwen, Eirwen, Eirwen.”

She sighed, a soft, contented sigh and withdrew her hand. “I suppose that’ll do,” she replied. “Though it’s fairly unimaginative…”

Catching it, he kissed her palm and pulled her off the statue. She let him twist her, turn her, press her back to his chest. He kept hold of her hand, pressing it to her abdomen. Warm skin on skin. A thrill passed up her stomach.

“Emma’asha, my Eirwen,” he murmured. “Do you trust me?”

“Should I?”

Solas laughed. “A good question as usual, ma lath.” He kissed her cheek, traced his mouth up the line of her ear, nipping the tip. “Indulge me?”

“I could,” she replied. “If you…” The words died on her lips as he slipped her fingers beneath the hem of her pants. “Oh,” she moaned. Her head tilted back into his shoulder, rolling to press her lips against his neck. She felt his fingers press down on hers, beginning to urge a rotation around her clit. Another spike shot through her and she writhed. “Fen’harel.” His free arm captured her, held her firm against his body. The pace quickened. “Oh, make it…” she gasped. “Cr—Fen… oh, worth my… Fen…” her eyes squeezed shut. Her breathing sped up, faster, she rocked against him. “Fen…” she managed, “Fen’harel!”

“Come,” he murmured, repeating the words he’d spoken at Halamshiral. “Before band stops playing, dance with me.”

“Mmm.” Another spasm, warm between her fingers, his gliding over hers to slid up and down in the layers between her clit. She continued her rotations, feeling him slipping further and further into her pants. “Mhmm.” Her hips rocked, shifting back and forth as they once had to the music in camp. A gentle undulation in time with his thrusts. She felt him against her, the hot bulge of his cock rubbing up against her. Felt him through her pants. Oh, her damnable pants. Her free arm reached up, wrapping around his neck, fingers gripping his smooth head and pulled him down. Her lips brushed his ear. Another moan. Another soft, “Solas.” Another gasped, “Fen’harel!”

His warm chuckle filled her. His fingertip paused, trailing around her entrance. Gentle, wide circles, wide as her pants allowed. His lips shifted on her skin, pushing up her temple into her hairline. Into her hair.

Another spike shot through her, a pleasurable shiver. She throbbed. Her own fingers continued to work her clit, each throb brought a gentle thrust, and he moved against her. Taunting her through taut cloth. She groaned. Moaned. Bit back a cry. Her teeth sank into her lip, head pressed into the curve of his shoulder. Eyes on the moon overhead.

“Are you pleased with yourself, ma lath?” she whispered.

“No, my heart,” he replied. “I will not be.” The pace around her entrance quickened, dipping inside. Not far, just far enough. Eirwen’s knees turned to jelly, quivering in his arms. “Not until you beg.”

“I won’t.”

Another gentle kiss to her temple. “Oh?” His fingers slid into her, slid out. Tempting. They rotated. Taunting. “Perhaps then, _da’len_ , the Wolf should take you.”

Her voice caught in her throat. Breath hissed between her teeth. “Or,” her arm slipped off his neck, hand skimming down his chest. She rolled against him. Up, down, moving with the motion of her own fingers. Her left flattened on his stomach, slid into his pants, and she took him in her hand. Felt him groan before she heard it. Felt him shudder. Anticipation. Pleasure. _Sweet, sweet revenge._ “Maybe I’ll take you, _hahren_.”

“Challenging me, ma lath?”

“Always.”

Her fingers gripped him, skin smooth beneath her palm, she rolled down to the base and up. Quicker, faster, harder, until he nearly stumbled.

“Eirwen.” He muttered her name like a delicious curse.

She giggled.

His tempo spend up, fingers dug in. Swirling inside her, pressing against her walls, he rocked her back.

She buckled, her fingers tightening, eyes squeezing shut, she kept pace. “Fen,” she moaned. Up and down, his warm skin in her hand. Thumb rotating around him, shoulders pressed to his chest. “Oh, Fen’harel. Void…”

“Damnable…” he growled. His free hand moved to her pants. “Pants.” She heard a button pop free. Then, they were gliding down her legs and collapsing in a small heap around her ankles.

 _I lost my boots at the camp._ She half-expected her underwear to go with them. _But,_ she thought distantly as his fingers plunged deeper and her pelvis thrust, _that takes two hands._ “Impatient?” Her voice escaped her, soft and hoarse.

“For you only, vhenan.”

Solas’ fingers rotated faster. Rocked her harder. His lips teased her earlobe. Taking it in his teeth, playing with it as she gasped. Hot, sweet shivers shuddered up through her. She could barely stand it.

_So close. Oh, damnation._

“Oh, Solas,” she moaned. “Cr…” She panted. “Fen’harel… please.”

His fingers clenched, exactly the right spot, and she cried out.

“Again,” he murmured.

“Please,” she whispered. “Oh, Fen’harel! Please, please, please.”

He chuckled, a warm contented sound. “As you wish, ma lath.”

 _So…_ her thoughts trailed off, his fingers digging deep, swirling faster, harder. Crushing. Her own heat poured through her, rushing out in a gush. Her eyes shut. Body tightened. Buckled. Jerked. And she cried out. Unaware even of whose name she yelled into the night air. She collapsed back against him, conscious of his satisfied support.

“There’ll be no living with you,” Eirwen muttered.

Stroking her damp hair, Solas laughed. “Bend over, heart,” he said. “The night is still young and the band continues to play.”

With a smile, Eirwen straightened and leaned over. She braced her palms on the stone. She felt his hands slide down her back, slipping beneath her underwear, yanking it down. “How long?” she asked. A stupid question, she already knew the answer.

His warmth fit in behind her and she felt him between her slick thighs. He gripped her hips, pulled her tight, and thrust inside.

Again, she cried out.

“Until the music stops.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ay-yi-yi... I should never write smut. This left me blushing six ways to Sunday. I hope you enjoyed it though! Dalish parties also last all night... XD


End file.
